the 70th Annual Hunger Games (SEMI-OPEN SYOT)
by kariiwilliams121
Summary: For Peka Dromier's last Games ever, she decides to create an arena parallel to all the others before it- one of the seasons. A sweltering, scorching summer, to a hypothermic, biting winter, and a pollen-infused, wheezing spring, ending with a gale-filled, dropping autumn, she's set to prove herself to Snow before Crane takes over. (Males 7 & 8, Females 9 & 11, both 12 open!)
1. Chapter 1

"Well, Miss Dromeir. I see you have outdone yourself this one last time then, hmm?" pouts President Snow.

"Well, _yes,_ sir, I have. I wanted to make my last year special," says Dromeir, while twisting her lavender coloured hands around over her projection book.

Snows smiles at her, a decibel of blood infused spit threatening to pour out on his crisp white and gold swirled shirt.

She sweats uncontrollably, the aroma of artificial honey seeping from her pores. Snow licks his lips at the smell, thus dropping the blood bulb at the corner of his mouth.

"Special it is, Peka. Special it is..." he whispers into the air, trying to immerse himself in her Capitol made sweat scent.

"Thank you, sir." she shakily says, tipping herself forward towards the man, thus showing the top swells of her breasts, her black hair crooning over her shoulders.

They we're slowly gravitating themselves to one another, both fully aware of the lust floating around in the air.

"Oh, Coriolauns, you didn't tell me Peka was here!" chirped his bloated wife, Morta. A push over of a woman, she wasn't liked anywhere around Panem, and Snow was fine with that.

"Uh, yes, . I was just showing our President here the new arena," the coffee coloured woman replied.

Morta's dull eyes lightened at the thought. "Well, _really?_ Ah, let me see of it then!" she jumped.

"Okay..." Peka's singsong voice rang throughout Snow's cavernous office. She lifted the book like metal onto the mahogany desk. She flipped to page eight.

"Arena, _rise._" she said while standing with her hands out stretched.

"Oh my," whispered Mrs. Snow. "It's marvelous!"

"Thank you, miss, I tried my best." hastily laughed Peka.

The trio gazed at the 3-D formed hologram projection. Rising above the table, it stood. It was in the form a an equal square, divided into four equal quadrants. The upper left held a winter wonderland. Everything was bleak and frozen; there was no life to be seen. A constant snow fell in heavy sheets to the ground, putting it in almost blizzard like circumstances. The upper right held the absolute opposite. A burning, hot, dry desert land covered the northeastern sphere of the square plain. It was rolling hills of sand, sand, and more sand. The few plants that were there either held the most life suntanning juices that allowed a tribute to live for days without water, to the most horrid of sorts, a plant whose touch soothed the heat but who ingestion cremated the heart. Under that one was a autumn, but the worst of sorts. Rapid winds with bites of cold covered it. Nothing in it was calm and dry spells along with rain left tributes in awe. The last was the lower left; the spring. It was beautiful, full of colourful tid bits and flowers and what not. To the eye it looked pleasing; to be near was hell. The pollen inflamed your sinuses making it hard to breathe, but not so bad as to what it'd kill you. A constant itching where you couldn't scratch was there, and didn't leave until you left it.

"I honestly love it, Peka. Outstanding work," she said as she leaned over to hug Peka in a too affectionate way.

"Thank you again, miss. I'll be sure to tell you how everything comes along." she said as she packed her things, which was just the projector book. "See you in a bit," she called off as she made her way out and into her and Snow's 'private room'.

* * *

Tribute form on my profile! Please, please, please sign up! It's greatly appreciated. (: Chapter two will be up either later today or tomorrow morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. Dromeir's platform heels clacked on the blue marble floors leading to a large flower bedazzled wooden set. Upon reaching the heavy doors, she twisted the brass handle, continuing to strut to a metallic lavender desk. She sat in the lavender seat too, swiveling herself around until she got comfortable.

She waved her hand over the small screen on her tabletop. A picture of a plump, pale orange tinted woman with bleached spiral curls. "Barnabelle, do I have any messages?"

Her face pinched as she smiled at her boss. "Yes, ma'am, Sir Crane is here. He's been waiting for a few minutes now, would you like for him to come in?"

Peka's skin doesn't redden, yet an angry heat fills her cheeks. Her jaw tightened, as did her fist. A rapid sheen of sweat covered her brow and neck. She inflamed, allergic to the job-taking parasite that has been awaiting her presence. She trembled as she answered. "Yes, please send him in," she clenched.

She took off her fitted turquoise and plum blazer donned in tiny scribbles and scratches that straddled the line of opacity and translucence. A white, sleeveless top played at her shoulders and high neck, accentuating her collarbone. A plum daisyed choker brought out the swan like essence of her head, elongating the already stretched thing.

She fanned herself as her study's door opened.

"Getting hot at my arrival, I see?" joked the young Seneca.

"What do you wish to speak about?" Peka lashed, getting right to the point.

"I'm not working as assistant this year. I'm taking some time off. I need to think about how I want to plan my arena for next year," he smirked at her.

The words were like screeches in her ear. "Snow will accept no such thing."

"Snow will accept what ever the hell I want!" he cut her off. "After all, I _am_ his gracing point."

"You are only his gracing point in bed, Seneca!"

"Same as you are, Peka! The exact same as you, so don't you dare call _me_ out any different!" he shouted over her. "I'm guessing the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, now does it?"

She seethed. "You are no creation of mine! You crawled right out of the deepest pits of Tartarus into my way. I gave you no influence, I gave you no sway. It is your fault for letting yourself get fooled! You won't keep this job any longer than I have,"

"Fooled? By whom? You? Snow? All of the Capitol? No, sweetheart. Snow is genuine. I _will_ be Head Gamemaker for lives after yours."

"Coriolanus is feeding you lies! He is playing you, I swear it! He'll tag you along for a bit, then after he think's you've expired , he'll just toss you away like nothing ever happened between either of you!" tears and spit flew around the room. "He'll fill you with all these hopes that someday he'll make you his united lover, that he'll be forever with you, that he'll make you his most prized possession he's ever had, all to get you in his sheets!"

Seneca clicked his tongue. "See, Peka, that's the difference between you and I. I know not to expect anything more from Snow. I know my boundaries end in the bedroom. I know how to keep my place, but _you_..." he laughed. "Oh, you, my dear, can be swayed easily by mere words. Like, if I told you now, with enough heart, that I was considering letting you stay HGM for the remainder of the decade, you would believe every word that spilled from my mouth, now wouldn't you?"

She shook.

She raged.

She _burned_.

A deep guttural scream escaped from her throat as she flew over her desk, the tight newsprint skirt she was wearing ripped at the derriere, and then she on top of Seneca.

Rock onyx based nails ripped and tore at his flesh, leaving deep skid marks of red along his hands and arms. The moisture falling from her eyes and lips got all over his face, making it a slippery, hot plain that was mixing betwixt their skins.

Profanities jumped from both of their mouths, each obscene word adding to the heat. Her cat toe platforms jabbed him in places same as high rise loafers kicked and prodded at her. His slicked back black hair became unruffled, as did her big curls, the latter swinging and sticking to her face as she tore at the man.

Peacekeepers were called in by sweet Barnabelle who heard a clatter and commotion going on in her bosses study room. Screams still filled the air as three troopers stomped in.

"Rot in Hell, Seneca!" clawed Peka as she was lifted in the air.

"See you there then, _Peka!_" he spat her name.

"Get him out of my office!" he voice cracked as she yelled at the man, some of her words high pitched, some of them low. "Get him out _now_!"

"Let's go, ," rumbled the Peacekeeper, holding Seneca by his tattered arm.

"Put me down, sir." she respectfully said. "You may leave me,"

Crawling to her desk she picked up the land-line phone, shakily dialing to Snow's phone.

It answered on the fourth ring. _"Yes, Peka, what is it?"_

She whispered into the phone lightly, tears still making waves on her face. "Can I see you?"

An angry sigh sounded over the line. _"Not right now. I'm a little busy. Mayb-"_ there was a pause. _"I'll just see you tomorrow." _

The line went dead as she dropped it to the floor beside her, then curling up her knees to her chest as she heaved and shook, burrowing against her desk underside.

The make up she had so delicately done washed away with tears and grief and jealousy. One scratch on her arm was still bleeding, the crimson serum dotting her arm because it had't clotted yet.

The Peacekeepers and Barnabelle stood silently, still watching her through open doors.


	3. Chapter 3: District 1

**a/n**

**a few things**

**Qqour- (co-core)**

**i'll try to do the chapters like two tributes in each one. up until they met up at the capitol, it'll be the two from the same district. it'll start with one adn end with another. like this starts with Gutchi and ends with Abaddon. you'll see**

**there is homophobic words in this chapter along with homophobic slurs. i don't condone it but it fit the plot. i'm sorry if you're offended, just know i don't have those ideals**

**happy reading, you'll get the other two next week.**

**also this was 15 pages in my google doc, so i'll try to leave them that long, or around it (7-13 is my average goal per chapter until we get to the Capitol)**

* * *

The party was late at night, nearing the witching hour most frightened.

Mayor Qqour's mansion was being shrouded with loud music, bright flashes of light, and the district's finest folks. Only the top of the top were invited to the Choosing Ceremony.

In the recesses of the elite housing was a dinner ceremony, a huge hall of sorts holding the parents of the potential tributes whom were slate to volunteer into this year's games.

The clitter and clatter of plates and glasses what the main music for the elders, whilst on the other side of the glass was an array of sixteen to eighteen year old potential tributes dancing and mixing, drinking and chatting in complete bliss.

A monarch of blond hairs and cerulean eyes were all chittering and bunching around a mess of pink hair, the only original thing in the bunch of similarities.

Sitting in a gold accented chair was the pink haired beauty, her aura radiating superiority over the copies around her.

"Hey, Gutchi I brought you some trash rolls!" squiled one of them.

She choked back on her drink a little. "Excuse me?"

The girl quickly recovered and went to defend her case. "Trash rolls! It's like a dough roll stuffed with pepperoni and cream cheese, try it!"

No time to speak, the pastry was stuffed in Gutchi's mouth and she was forced to chew and take it down. "_What did I tell you about touching me!_" she growled, her artificial yellow irises aflame.

The girl's mouth bobbed open and closed like a fish, fear slowly taking over her features. "Um,"

"You little bit-,"

"Soon to be Victors! Please enter the dining corridor and be seated with your parents. The choosing is to start soon!"

Gutchi composed herself and stepped, or pushed her way out of the female circle, heading to the lush food area. Once she was there her eyes scanned the list of seats for Mr. and , her parents.

A large shove knocked her off her feet and onto the floor below. "Excuse me, I need to see something," the voice spoke down as most of the other kids laughed and looked at her. It was funny seeing someone so deathly under wind like the rest of them.

She jumped up with incredible speed onto her feet, up in the boy's face who'd sent her down.

She shoved him back harder and held herself over him. "Watch who the fuck you're shoving, you little brat!" she roared, then shot her eyes around to the rest of the kids standing near, setting her aggression into them too. "Don't fucking laugh,"

She went back to scanning the list to find her parents, looking through the C's.

_Case's - Table B15._

_Caalriy's- Table E31._

_Chase's- Table A7._

_Churr's- Table Z8._

_Cixorns'- Table F1._

_Clearvesance's- A3._

_Ckezsteein's- P1._

"Miss Clearvesance, Mister Chase?" called out a servant.

Gutchi's ear perked up at her mentioning. "What?"

"Mayor Qqour has asked for you to be escorted to the area where you parents are waiting. May I?" he quorked.

Her harsh look softened the slightest bit. "Yeah, lets go,"

"Yeah, lets," smirked the boy that pushed her down. His chapped lips were up at an angle, and his eyes were a bit hooded.

"Hm, after you, miss." bowed the brown haired maid, his name light reading Sicctrik.

"Mmmhmm, okay," said an uninterested Gutchi. already walking through the tables.

"You stupid idiot," whispered the young Chase with a light chuckle.

"Baddie, please." shushed Sicctrik. "Miss! Miss Clearvesance, you are going the wrong way."

She looked ticked, thumping a strand of bright pink hair behind her ear. "No I'm not, the tables are down here."

"Well, _yes,_ you are right, most of them are, but-," he was cut off by the boy named Baddie.

"Groups A through C eat upstairs with the Victors and Mayor. Don't you know anything, or does all that dye fuck up your brain?" he smirked again.

"Baddie, chill, stop being mean." Sicctrik stressed. He didn't want him to get pushed around by her again. He turned and addressed Gutchi, who looked to be boiling. "We're going to take the stairs, alright?"

She didn't hear Sicctrik, but instead 'Baddie'. "Literally fuck off, kid. No one cares that you know what I don't, it isn't that big a deal. What is a big deal, though, is that if you _ever_ acknowledge me that way or push me over again, I swear it'll be your ass." she venomized. "Take me where I need to go before I fucking annihilate him."

"Yes ma'am!" Sicctrik jumped out of instinct. "I mean Miss, deeply sorry, right this way,"

He lead them down a wide hallway decorated with paintings of every single District One Victor since the first Games. Different men and women stood in the centre of the painting, large jewels and glorious fabrics shrouding their edges. They all looked straight ahead, feet set wide apart, naked, and arms crossed. In the left hand was their weapon of choice, the right some type of luxury.

A tall dark man-child holding a thick club and translucent golden stalagmite.

A honey skinned Oriental girl holding throwing stars and strings of delicate pearls.

A pink haired, yellow eyed, red lipped female holding a barbed whip and large tear drops of ammolite.

_I look so graceful._ she thought.

"Hopefully it'll come true…" she silently wisped to herself.

"What will come true?" pushed 'Baddie'.

A deep sigh of irritation escaped her mouth. "_I_ will come true. Me, painted onto the walls with jewels and weapons and a large shrine dedicated to _my _Victorship!" she flourished with a smile.

The boys paused.

"L-O-L," mouthed Baddie to Sicctrik, who was lightly pulling Gutchi's arm towards the hallway.

"Oh, he didn't mean that," he smiled sadly, trying not to get on her bad side. "C'mon, let's go to the dinner, I'm sure your parents are waiting."

Gutchi's eyebrow was arched and pointed at the same time, conveying a sassy amount of annoyance. "Yeah," she copied from earlier. "Lets,"

* * *

"Attention everyone!" called out Qqour over the district elites.

Young men and women had come from far over the district to get an opportunity to go into the Games, and many were had fought all their lives just to be in this place, the place of getting put to volunteer and not even be guaranteed a placing yet.

"We have you all here today, or tonight I should say, heh," he and the crowd chuckled lightly. "To pick our two lovely teens to enter into this year's Games! You've all come far and wide over our the District One quadrant for this one event, and I'd like to get it started! Roma, dear," he lightly pointed at his wife. "Are you ready to draw?"

Roma perked up at her name, blonde ponytail swinging behind her happily. "Of course!"

She stepped up to two over sized golden chalices, one with blue, green, and onyx jewels for the boys and pink, red, and translucents for the girls. Her petite hand dipped into the male's bowl.

She swirled her hand deep, reaching in the depths to pick a name. She settled on one. "Ah!"

She stepped up to the microphone. "Abaddon Chase!" and the crowd applauded. The boy 'Baddie' stood up and made his way to the stage, smiling brightly, slightly waving to people as he passed by.

"Thank you, Mayor! I really appreciate this opportunity, I am very grateful for this, seriously." he flourished, swiping a black hair from his face.

In a dark corner, Sicctrik shed tears silently, wiping them on his white shirt.

"Should I have a speech already?" he whispered to Roma.

"No." she replied harshly. "Go sit." blue eyes like the tip of a flame.

"Oh…" he smiled again, and the room clapped, then he trotted off stage, slumping into a seat next to his brother, Adonis Chase, the Victor of two years previous. "Wife's a real bitch. Looks like she'd be a dream,"

Adonis nailed Abaddon in his ribs, but the boy didn't react. "Shut up, faggot. Don't talk about others when you have faults yourself. Go over there and cuddle your little twink boy over there, huh?"

Baddie's eyes closed as he struggled to hold his anger. "Donnie, don't fucking push me. Not tonight."

"Fuck you, queer,"

"Donnie, I'm serious, _shut the fu-_,"

"Boys!" their father looked at them with steel grey eyes that nailed the boys to their seats. "Stop it. We don't have time for your petty fights tonight. We have an image to uphold,"

"Well, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to do if Donnie stopped being such a homophobic douche, Dad!" Baddie whispered harshly over the table to the elder.

"_No,_" Adonis held the -o out. "It's be **way** easier if he stopped oogling his little boyfriend and kissin' on him every five minutes!"

A meaty hand smacked the table, and the argument ceased. "_**Enough!**_"

"Excuse me!" Roma had came back onto the podem, ready to Reap again. "We are ready for the girls! Just had a bit of a miscounting, is all." she looked over at a black haired girl who donned a red hand print that fitted Roma's petite one perfectly.

At the Clearvesance's table, Gutchi raked her fingers through her hot pink hair, looking in a small hand mirror to check her appearance.

"Stop it." hissed her mother, Shine.

"What?" lamely said Gutchi.

"Stop prodding yourself. You're already distracting enough,"

"Thanks, I get that a lot." she sarcastically winked at her mother.

"It'd be a bloody day in hell if they picked you," she scoffed. "I mean, look at you. You used to be so beautiful, just like every other girl here." she sighed a sigh she needed to let go since Gutchi was twelve. "Then you had to mess everything up,"

"Exactly, Shine." she whipped her eyes to her mother, just like she whipped her barbed wire whip on another District One girl earlier today."I looked just like them, and just like you. You'd fucking wonder why I wanted to change,"

"Gutch, don't curse at your mother." her father deadpanned.

"Don't curse at me! I am still your elder! Your mother!" bits of spittle flew from her small lips, showing the anger she felt inside.

"Barely." she straightened out her bright yellow dress as she sipped her drink.

"Okay, we are about to draw for the girls!" pipped Mrs. Qqour.

She dipped her hand in, swarming around deeply. She pulled her hand up and held two different slips, sliding one in each palm. "Left or right?"

Half the hall chanted left, the other chanted right. Gutchi for the latter.

"I think I'll go…" she debated comically between the two. "Left!"

_Damn,._ Gutchi thought.

"And the name reads…" she struggled at the name… "Gucci Clear..vacne?" she seemed extremely unsure.

A loud cackle was heard from the Chase table.

Her thick husband came and examined the card for her, and slightly chuckled at how horrid his wife had butchered the name. "Roma, dear, it says Gutchi Clearvesance, the pink haired girl from the academy!"

A light blush filled Gutchi's cheeks as the entire hall applauded her when she stood on stage.

"My dearest apologies, girl!" laughed off Roma, her arm around the girl. "I couldn't for the life of me figure out how-," her and the rest of the room chuckled heartily together.

"How about we get both our tributes on stage!" Mayor came through. "Abaddon, come up here, come up!"

Smirking Baddie jogged up stage, standing on the opposite side of Gutchi, leaving Roma in between.

"What a name, right?" he joked with the crowd, them huffing in laughter yet again.

"Watch it." Gutchi smiled with malice. "Not like you can say anything either," and the group _ooooohed_.

"At least she said it right." he smiled back. "Gucci."

"Don't get slapped, Baddie."

"Don't get punched, Gucci."

The crowd was eating up their banter like ice cream after a fire. They loved their 'play fighting'. Little that they know that thick hate would string them through the arena.

"My, my, _my!_" laughed the political couple, them patting their chests as they giggled at the two. "Don't we have a couple'a spitfires, huh?"

"Only one," Gutchi softly pulled her hair behind her ear. "Abaddon doesn't have much 'Bad' in him after all."

"Hah," he smiled and his lip split. "Very funny. But we'll see who's '_bad'_ once we enter that Arena. We'll see then,"

They _oooohhhhed_ again.

"Now, now, you two." Roma took on a fake motherly tone. "No fighting on the stage! Can't have Panem thinking our tributes can't get along!" she pulled them closer, and looked in their eyes. The crowd couldn't see it, but an armory of venom hid in that woman's eyes. "Now, shake hands!"

The two war ridden hands grasped each other whilst looking deathly in each other's eyes, yet playful smiles was all the audience could see. "May the best tribute win!"

* * *

"Stop crying, okay?" baddie leaned against the wall on the outside of the mansion. "You knew this was coming anyways."

"I know, but-," Sicctrik sniffled. "I just-," sniffle. "I-I don't want you to leave,"

"Well, it's too late now. I'm leaving. I won this fair and square, and I'm not gonna drop the opportunity, Sicc." he pulled a cigarette to his mouth and puffed in.

"Stop smoking!" Sicctrik took the bud from Abaddon's hands and put it out, twisting his shoe over the ember until it was black ashes. "You said you'd stop. I don't want you to go crazy while you're in the Games!"

Abaddon sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the wall. "I know. I did for a while. Just needed one tonight,"

"Why?"

"Donnie was being an ass," he open his eyes and took in the boy. Light brown flat hair brushed over his head, almost covering light brown eyes. Tidbits of acne fluttered on his cheeks. His small bowed lips were pressed into a tight line as he gazed out at the sky. His nametag repeated his name over, and over, and over, in a constant loop.

"What'd he say this time?" water brimmed on his eyes again.

"Nothing worth repeating. Come here," Baddie held his arms open for Sicctrik. "Give me some love,"

A little smirk appeared on his mouth. "Why?"

"For not beating Donnie's ass this time when he talked about you. You said not to fight anymore, and I didn't," they shared a chuckle. "I didn't. Now, come here,"

They shared a warm, love filled hug and rocked each other in the glory of the night, dancing with the wind.

"And besides, babe," he combed back Sicctrik's hair from his face. "If I win, _we'll_ move into the Victor's Village. We'll have our own place."

"Autumn and Allele won't let you do that, and you know Adonis would blow a gasket knowing that were staying right under his nose,"

"I don't care. I'm with you, that's all that matters," and he kissed him on the head.

"Baddie, Dad said to-," Adonis' words we stopped short when he saw the two boys hugging. "Fucking fags," he whispered as he walked away.

Gutchi and her parents were on their way out of the mansion, when a livid Adonis brushed past her.

She mistaked him for Abaddon, and let her anger flare up and get the best of her. "Watch where you're fucking going!" she reached out to push him. "We've been over this!"

"_Gutchi!_" stressed Shine. "Watch your language!"

Adonis didn't turn back but instead addressed his hulking father and mother. "He's out there with that gay shit again!"

"Don't talked about your brother that way!" his mother bit.

"Every-fucking-time I see the kid, he's all over that little queer! He's changed him, Dad, I can see it!"

"Adonis, enough. We'll handle this at home." his father snapped, just as Abaddon walked through the door, his hand in Sicctrik's with smiles on their faces.

Gutchi was eavesdropping as her parent's chattered their way to the door.

"If he's your brother it shouldn't be a fucking problem whether he likes dudes or not," she spat. "He's still your brother. Not like he's tryina' stick you up the ass,"

"Gutchi, get out of other people's conversations! That has nothing to do with you!" her mother pulled her away by the arm.

A small look of thanks passed between her and Abaddon.

"No. I have to look out for my partner." she sneered at Adonis. "And I don't condone hate."

"Thanks, Gucci," he slid a tiny smile her way.

"Oh, fuck off, kid." she slid one back.

She left without another word, and went for home.

Sicctrik and Baddie shared a kiss, while a hostile Donnie watched from their limo, anger flaring at the kid who took his brother's innocence away.


	4. Chapter 4: District 2

**a/n**

**i said i would try to come back and i did, surpisingly. idk, i just felt the need to actually finish this and give it closure. every story i've written, i've never finished. i have somehwere near 50 drafts for stories i've wrote a few pages for, yet never got a second look. i'm tired of doing that. i started this story when i was i think 14. i just turned 16 about 2 months ago (jan 13.) and i'm done with the petty mentality of starting to not finish. this will be done. i will notify when i'm going to hatius, but for now i'm pushing myself to update. (clap for me lol) this was spawned by 2 syots i submitted to, making me think "damn! i got my own story i ain't worried about, yet i'm sending in things to others. i need to not" yeah. thanks to those two syots: Hear The Wind Blow by Mistical Pine Trees and A Spell Broken by Red Roses1000. onwards (if anybody still reading.)**

* * *

Small shuffles made leaves shake to the ground. The clopping feet of a doe ruffled the still forest. A beast of a man sat hulking in the hollowed trunk of a tree. His breaths were light and shallow, a huge difference from his huge frame.

"_Attack,_" he whispered to himself. "Take action. Go for the kill. Attack,"

In a moment the sleepy forest became alight with sound, the boy jumping from his hiding place with a guttural scream, attacking the baby deer with a rage only found in a broken person.

His meaty paws latched onto the neck of the poor animal, crushing the bones inside. He continued to scream and choke the deer until a set of lights flashed on over the forest. "No!" he dropped the now dead deer on the ground, leaving its body to twitch and flail in a post-mortem dance. "I was not ready!"

A metal door opened and two figures beckoned him to come to them. He brushed the debris from the tree he was sitting in off his shoulders before sulking out the Arena simulation.

"Rendus." a husky voice said.

"Yes, father?" he replied meekly, despite his size. Larger than life itself, Rendus Nadius was 250 pounds and 6'1 feet of bulk. Fists like heavy boulders, arms and legs like thick poles, torso like the frame of a vehicle, just _large_ in general.

A hard slap was met with his face, yet his sturdy physique and inability to feel most pains didn't allow him to feel the sting from it. "You ill minded oaf!" What was thought to be a blow from his father was in fact from his mother. He slowly looked to her brown eyes, which held a world of shame for her son. "What did we say?"

"No more yelling…" he whispered, sounding like a child chastised for a small offence.

"Exactly! If you yelled like that in the arena, you'd be found dead in minutes! If you are to win you have to listen!" her words came harsh and cunning at her son, affecting Rendus more than her hit to his face.

He kept his head bowed out of fear and respect. "Yes, mother. I will listen."

"Good." he took that as a sign to leave, trying to make his way to the doors for the car waiting out front. "Wait!" he stopped in his tracks, whipping around to his parents.

"Have you taken your medicine today?" his father, Bostrus, held the same face as his child yet his body was half the size.

"Not for tonight."

A small box was set up on a table, its size no bigger than a lunchbox. Bostrus clicked it open and took out a large needle and liquid filled vial, the colour was of golden honey, consistisy of skimmed milk. The needle was dejected of air and refilled with the medicinal substance. "Give me your arm."

Rendus set his tree limb arm infront of his ftaher, pale skin showing the bloody lines running red, blue, green, and purple. Bostrus picked a bumping green vein and jabbed it with the needle, watching as it constricted then expanded, releasing a bloom of power through his entire body. An audible sigh slid from Rendus' lips. "Alright then. Devia,"

Picking a dead bug from his hair, his mother spoke. "Go on. Make sure you _are_ picked." she smoothed a small hand over his warm brown hair.

"But what if I am not?" his blue eyes looked downed at his mother, questioning.

Her eyes, her voice, and her stance were like stone. "Make sure," she leaned closer, "you are," closer, "picked." she spat.

His head nodded vigorously and he set for the door.

* * *

With much less 'class' then the district of kids former it, the District Two kids all got ready for a 'final battle' of sorts to determine the two tributes for leading. Only invited families are allowed to attend the fighting hall in the center square of Two.

The rest of the year the building belongs to a Peacekeeper training doc, yet on this night it was a large, open hall with stands set up on each side of the 17x17 foot square. The mayor, all previous victors, and a few trainors sit in a booth and discuss the sparring teens. The chosen winner of all fighting rounds is dead set to be tribute, no matter the picked name. The escort will be informed that said person will volunteer.

"Phoenix, dear! Hurry in," called a mother. A red haired girl jogged along quickly to stand with her parents. They stood in line at the entrance of the hall, passes in hand to enter the showing. Phoenix's mother slicked her hand over her daughter's hair, pushing back fly aways. "They're calling for the fighters over there. Best luck dear, love you." she kissed her head.

"Love you too, mom." she hugged her mother, then father. "Love you, dad."

"Back at 'cha. Fight hard for me, alright?" he smirked at his daughter, kissing her cheek.

"You bet. Bye, Crilly." she ruffled her little brother's hair, earning a smile from him.

"Bye, Phe-phe!" he hugged her legs. She threw one last smile at her family before running off again, this time to lines of teenagers on the far side of the complex.

She shuffled her way through a line of boys, all jeering and tussling at the prospects of fighting in the Games. Compaired to the line of guys, the line of girls was far less. With at least thirty, forty 16-18 year old boys over there, Phoenix could only see about twenty five girls standing on the inside, counting her at maybe twenty six. She stood infront of the mechine where a Peacekeeper was standing, surpisingly without a helmet, but with the gear. Her hair was thick and dark in a small bun, eyes sharp and dark against her deep brown skin. "Name."

"Phoenix Green." she shakily said. Not from nerves, no- never nerves, but _fear_ of social interaction.

"Age."

"E-eighteen." she stuttered as the woman pulled her through a modernized metal detector. A current went from the soles of her feet to the tips of her ears, like her entire body was asleep with static. As soon as it froze her entire body, it went away.

"Go through. You're the last one on my list." she jutted her thumb to the open doors.

Phoenix walked through the door, lean legs guiding her to an area with seats full of girls and a projection screen. She stood bewildered at what to do, choosing to stand to the side in the shadows as watch others to see what to do.

"Take a seat!" yelled a deep voice. Now deciding to just listen, she found a chair where no one was sitting near by, a secluded place just for her. "Pack it in tight, there's a lot of you!"

About ninty kids sat facing two people; one the female Peacekeeper from outside, the other a male companion.

"I'm Montaia. This is Sabiel," the woman said, no emotion on her face. "We're just gonna give you a brefier about what you're doing tonight."

"Okay. Since there's about 34 guys and 26 girls, you'll be fighting

in sets, also seperately." his voice somehow was much icier than Montaia's. "You'll go up in eight sets, four in each group. The extra two we'll fit in somewhere. In your sets of four you all will fight. No weapons, no gear, no help. There is no ganging allowed, you each fight one person. If you gang, you and your family will promptly be kicked the fuck out. No exceptions." he looked around with his sharp green eyes. "If you get overwhelmed, just say 'tapout' and everyone will stop fighting while we get you out,"

A tentative hand was raised in the back. "Will be get kicked out if we do?"

Sabiel ran a hand through his orange hair, the colour of a lit flame. "No. It'll look bad on your part though," he smiled. "The last guy standing at the end of the fight advances. Then those, what, eight of you get to stand infront of the Box with Mayor Yin, the newst victor, and a few more folks. They pick you single handedly and it's done. Got it?" he looked around. All male heads were nodding. "Good. Mo,"

She picked at her nail as she spoke, careless. "Pretty much the same for you girls, just less people. Four a group, six matches? That's twenty four, so two extra…"

"What are we gonna do about that? We can't have an odd number in groups, Mo."

"Yeah, I know. Should we ask Del?" she curved her head to him.

"Let's just do it later. Finish up the intro."

"Aight." she raked her fingers through her corse hair. "We get that this is a fight and all, you know for the Games and such. But there are still rules to oblige by. First of all, no ganging. As previously said, all fighting will cease and you will be kicked out, along with your family, _**but**_ you will also be banned. Be warned." she seemed very serious about that. "No kicking/punching in the genitals. That includes the penis, testicles, breasts, and vagina." snickers came from a small mingling of teens.

Sabiel's nostrils flared, irritated. "Oh, you think that's funny huh?" he whipped out his gun, cocking it. All laughing ceased, instead frightened looks.

Phoenix sat up in her seat, smirking. _I like him…_ She turned her head up to the laughing group a few seats diagnal her, and her breathing hitched for a second. _Them!_

Yes, the iconic _them_. The trio of friends she thought she had, who left her. She could point them out from memory, since they hadn't changed face in years.

There was Alàn, skin patched with different colours as he gulped quietly. Seems he's gotten confident in his condition since he left her.

There was Minerva, or Minnie for short. She cut her hair short, it was up near her ears now, when it used to stop in the small of her back.

Then there was the leader, her ex-best friend Nabby. She still wears those same bright purple contacts, contrasting with her deep bronze skin.

Three traitors all gathered together, causing ruckus in unimaginable proportions, as they had been for almost five years now.

Absolutely fuming, Phoenix turned around in her seat, fighting back angry tears and a red face. Just how jolly, the people who took away every ounce of her trust were here fighting for the very thing she wanted to prove them wrong.

"Not so funny anymore, huh?" his tone was still icy, now with a lace on condecending laced through. "Now shut up and listen!"

Montaia was holding back a laugh. "Woof." she said, sobering. A small crack in Sabiel's glare glowed a smile. "Now. No weapons, I think that's pretty exclamitory. No do overs once you've lost. The winner wins and advances to the next level, no ifs, ands, or buts. Last rule: this is still a fight. You aren't putting on a show for these people, you're trying to become tributes to become victors. You want to be sitting here next year in the box with Mayor Yin, your folks, other victors, and the like. Fighting until you know you're going to win." her words resonated in everyone more than Sabiel's gun shocked them.

They were there to achieve a title, _**not**_ to play for a show, show off or any of that.

_I'm going to show everyone how strong I am. I'll prove them all wrong, I bet._ Phoenix thought as the Peacekeeper friends dragged them to the waiting areas.

* * *

Sitting, Bostrus and Devia Nadius held their noses up at all the other parents sitting near. Bostrus put his hand over his wife's, shuffling closer together.

Closer to the edge of the bleacher like seats, the Green family sat waiting for thier Phoenix to come out. Cronix, her little brother, was jumping excitedly, ready to see his big sister beat everybody.

"Now entering the arena, the Fighters of the 70th," called out Sabiel, standing on a box as the jittery boys and girls walked through the doors to a box of reserved seats.

Families yelled out to their kids, all happy and riled up for the fighting to commence.

"First up, males! The first set out of eight: Mikel Coan, Geb Grover, Boron Hale, Zeke Palm, Alàn Tetrol, and Quint Walker. Please step down," the six boys stepped down from the group, all of similar builds, long and lanky. They walked to the square, seeming smaller now there were so many of them on it.

Montaia and Sabiel had solved their problem of the extra fighters with their commander, Del. The groups with the extra fighters would go first to get it out the way.

From the stands Mayor Yin and the latest victor, Nile Bladem, sat to observe, eating finger-foods.

The six of them split three on three in the square, all nodding condolences to each other except for Alàn who had a glare. He wasn't in the mood to play nice, he wanted to fight.

"Ready, boys?" lights all around the room shut off, leaving lights sprouting from beams of the bleachers to the floor only illuminated. The fighters could only see each other, the square, and nothing else. Sabiel's hair really looked like a flame now. "In five," Mikel's fists clenched. "Four," Geb shuffled his feet. "Three," Boron sniffled. "Two," Zeke cracked his knuckles. "One," Alàn attacked Quint in a second, rolling the boy onto the floor.

He slammed punch after punch into his face, lean arms doing mightly damage already. All around was commotion, pairs of boys attacking each other as the crowd yelled on for their son, their brother, their favorite to win.

* * *

The first five fights went by in a fairly lengthy time, averaging around eleven minutes a match, though the crowd never got tired of the battles.

The first fight was won by Alàn Tetro, a piece of Phoenix's past, a painful piece at that. After that it followed with Syine Uup, Brock Jennor, Blake Rocker, and Xander Goodwin.

Up next was a fight that was a bit unfair…

"Jesus," whispered Sabiel into his megaphone. Uncalled for, yes, but not disagreed upon. The entire crowd was thinking the same thing, all for Rendus' parents who smirked proudly.

"That's _our_ son!" Devia commented, getting wide-eyed looks from the other mothers sitting by.

Rendus stalked through in front of his competitors, body bigger than anyone else's in the room. His shoulders bulged through the fitted shirt he was wearing, constricting the wanting to be free form. He was an antique circus act muscle man at only seventeen, frightening the boys whom he was supposed to sparring against.

Sabiel regained his composure, though the crowd -even the mayor- had not. "Round six we have Gideon McCol, Fenti Marl, Rendus Nadius, and Paval Yorn."

They went to the square as twenty-two boys did prior. Rendus took up a good amount of space in it too. "Begin in five, four, three, two, one!"

In a flash Rendus snatched Fenti off his feet, smashing the boy to the floor, taking all the oxygen out of his soul as he did so. Rendus climbed on top of the now helpless fighter, striking punch after punch to his cranium. After only three punches, Fenti was flailing, screaming, "Tapout! Tapout! Tap_out_!" just as another hit was sent his way, but froze in mid air.

"Montaia, get him out please," Del asked. "Krix you too. That boy looks heavy." Mo and Krix nodded to their leader, pressing small buttons on their shoes.

The same current that traveled over Phoenix in the metal detector system was the same here, tingling anyone who was on it in a freeze, unless you had proper coverage. The two prayed Rendus' large hands from Fenti's increasingly blue face, Montaia picking up the boy in her arms as he passed out from head trauma.

"Is he even seventeen? He's an animal, look at him." Del whispered to Sabiel who could only nod, in shock of how quickly Rendus ended the boy, half a minute at most.

As soon as Fenti was completely off the square, the current went away and Rendus' fist hit air. Now devoid of a partner, Rendus turned around, setting his eyes on Gideon, who had restled Paval to the ground, yet was still loosing. His black hair wooshed around as his head was kicked heavily to the ground, a loud crack bouncing around the arena.

The crowd, silent, all flinched at the boy who was K.O.'ed quicker than Fenti had. Devia and Bostrus jumped in their seats, clapping loudly for their beast of a boy.

All Paval could do was look up with eyes wide as he scooted away from Rendus on his back. Countless punches were coming to Gideon's torso, the poor child coughing up blood and getting bruised. Rendus' didn't understand the power of his own self. Paval shook his head, and stood. Will all the will and strength he could muster, he ran at Rendus, not taking into accord his gutteral yell as he did so.

Just as he was his, Rendus turned at the sound, only to be knocked down on his side. Paval was of equal height Rendus, only half his body mass. His punches were quick and sharp, leaving bruises and scratches, but no pain came to Rendus' at first thought.

Paval jumped away quickly, staying on the balls of his feet, bouncing, ready to move at any given moment. Rendus dragged himself to his feet, angry. _How dare I get one-uped! Mother and father will not be happy. _

Keeping in mind was Paval did not, he lunged for him quietly, yelling in his head instead. The crowd had started to cheer for Paval and he was basking in his glory, both hands up, cheering for himself too. With a hand cocked very far back, he raced his palm to Paval's side, knocking him over to his side. Rendus sat on the boy's chest, struggling to keep him still under him. "No! No! Get off, you fucking monster!"

Rendus paused for a second, hit by the words. "I am **not** a monster!" then in a furious rage he bashed both fists on Paval's face repeatedly.

A now conscious Gideon slid his way to the edge of the box, hand shaking towards Montaia and Krix. "P-please," he shook.

Oddly, Montaia looked pained for the boy. She wouldn't want to be near that monstrosity either. "I can't come in unless you tap out, I'm sorry. Just say it, I promise I'll get you," she cooed to him.

"T-t-tapout, tapout," blood was running from his head, leaving a little puddle.

"HELP MY SON!" yelled a man, voice threaded with fear.

"Sabby, the lock!" Krix yelled to Sabiel, who turned on the field. They went in quick and grabbed Gideon out. Just when they were about to leave, Paval had passed out from Rendus' fists.

"Mo, grab him!" Del yelled. Fists in mid-air, Rendus was frozen as Montaia pulled Paval out from under his armpits. His head lolled to the side, blood pouring out his nose and a split in his lip. She looked up and almost stumbled back at the primal look on Rendus' face, eyebrows knitted, lips snarled, nostrils flared. His soft baby blue eyes contrasted everything he was, shocking her. She hurried to pull Paval out to safety.

"The winner is Rendus' Nadius. Please go take a seat for choosing," Sabiel checked his watch. "Match six- five minutes and thirteen seconds."

* * *

After that the female rounds went smoothly, averaging around twelve minutes a match. So far the winners had been Nabby Schols, Kit Runder, Gaia Orion, Venus Orion, Clair Whislar, and _Phoenix Green_. She was the under dog of her match, taking out one girl with a power kick from her slender legs, and another from tripping her with her own weight. One had tapped out early in the fight.

"Will all of the previous winners stand up!" Sabiel announced, coming back from the Box of officials. Seated by order and gender, they all stood. Sabiel turned stepped down from his podium, allowing Mayor Yin and the newest victor to stand upon it.

Mayor Yin smiled brightly, eyes crinkling at the sides from years of doing such. His wispy black hair lay slick on his head. "Hello, my marvelous fighters!"

Each one of the bowed, the last one being Rendus who took the lead from others. Somehow after his match had been won, his shirt had been lost. His rippled arms and torso were now on full show.

"We appreciate every one of you who fought tonight, although we may only pick two winners," he looked down the line gleefully, though his eyes bulged a bit when landing on Rendus. "Contrary to previous years, on this night we would like to end with one more fight. This one between the two girls who showed the best skills, Miss Nabby Schols and Miss Phoenix Green."

_Why her?_ Phoenix scathed in her own mind, not turning to look anywhere but at the Mayor. She could feel her cheeks flush and her fists clench. She steadied her shaking leg. Phoenix doubted she could beat Nabby single-handedly. Not for the fact that they used to be friends, but for the fact that Nabby was large and a good hand to hand fighter.

"Please step forward to the square," he motioned his hands to the quarreling area. Phoenix kept her hands behind her back, not looking up at all.

"_Goooo Phe-Phe!_" she heard a small voice from the silent crowd. Knowing the little boost could only come from her brother, she smiled. Now her eyes lifted, sending him a small wink in the general area he was in. She heard a giggle and _shh!_s from her mother.

"Sir, the male winner," Nile softly whispered.

"Oh! Yes, yes! The male tribute we have chosen is...Rendus Nadius!" people clapped, but no one looked surprised. Devia and Bostrus clapped furiously for their son, proud of his physical finesse, though attributed by drugs.

Rendus stood and bowed his head to Mayor Yin, then sat back in his seat with a smirk. _Mother will be happy._

_Sheesh, he's a big guy._ Phoenix thought as he waved his hand out. _Don't know how anyone's gonna deal with him. _

Nile stepped off the box and walked to the sqaure. "Stand here," he pointed to an 'x' on the oposite side of where Phoenix was standing. Nabby moved there. "This fight won't be like the others. You get to use weapons and it's timed." A dramatic intake from the audience filled the gap of continued quietness that had been in.

Nile snapped his fingers and two large walls sprouted from the far side of the floor, adorned with all types of weapons: knives, stars, sais, you name it. He strode to the wall, the two girls in tow. "You pick what ever you want. The winner is the one who gets the other down on the ground in a kill position, in under three minutes. If neither is on ground, a sudden death mode will ensure, and we pick at random," he looked them both in the eyes. "We hope not to do that though. We want to see who can really bring something home for out district again, alright?"

"Yeah." Nabby deadpanned.

Phoenix nodded her head.

He stepped out of the way. "Pick your weapons."

In a flash Phoenix snatched a spear from the wall and stalked back to her standing place. She closed her eyes, prepping. _You are going to beat her. You are going to win this. You will prove them all wrong. _Her hands tightened over her spear. Nabby had grabbed a long sword, something cruel and sharpened that she didn't look like she knew how to handle.

The previous victor looked between the two ladies. "Remember, you have three minutes. Good luck to you both!" he then jogged out the Square to stand next to Sabiel.

"Long time no see, _Phoenix_." that same languidness in her voice hadn't went away either. It was like her words didn't want to hold themselves up, relying heavily on her throat to give them sustenance.

"Shut up."

"Sorry it had to end up like this, ya know, us fighting and all," her tone was mocking, purple eyes looking sickly superficial in the lighting.

"Nabby, if you don't shut your mouth." Phoenix growled.

"Alright, ladies!" Sabiel called over the crowd. Again all focus was on the square and its fighters. "Get ready in five, four, three, two,- _one!_"

With a smile Nabby lifted her large sword, aiming at Phoenix's side in a heavy arc.

Catching the move, she dodged out the way, rolling on the ground and back up behind Nabby's back. She kicked her square in the spine, making her ex bestfriend fall on the floor in a clatter and huff, not antisipating the heft in Phoenix's kick. She put all her resent and bitterness in that kick too, you could tell. Nabby turned from being on her stomach to her back, pawing for her sword she'd lost so quickly. Phoenix kicked it somewhere out of bounds.

The tip of her boot left an imprint on the suit of Nabby, while taking the air from her lungs. This was all so unexpected from the girl. The head of the spear was positioned at the neck, the very tip of it scratching the thin skin that was there.

"Time!" yelled Sabiel. "Thirty-two seconds. Our female tribute is seventeen year old Phoenix Green, everyone give an applause!" the entire crowd of people clapped for Phoenix, the loudest ones and cheers from her family.

She stepped back, smiling.

"No fucking way! She cheated me, rematch! I want a rematch!" an angry Nabby got from the floor, growling. She was dragged away by a passive Krix.

"No. You lost. Deal with it," said Montaia, accompanied by Mayor Yin, Nile, and others. "Congrats, Phoenix! We will see you and your partner Rendus off in the Reapings tomorrow,"

They brought Rendus up and they stood next to each other, smiling at the crowd of people.

_This is going to be good,_ she thought.

_Mother and Father will be happy!_ he thought.

Both were beyond ready for battle.


	5. Chapter 5: District 3

**a/n**

**if you're wondering why some of the slots on my bio for tributes are empty but i'm saying its closed, it's bc i don't have the paitence to wait lol, but if you want to send in one before i get to preferred district you can. Otherwise, they'll be real bleak ppl i'll bloodbath bc i have 17/24 that i can work with so i'm cool with that. &amp; this: i do think peacekeepers can have children, but like on accident, one night stands and such. One of the characters this chapter is a peacekeeper's son so i thought i'd mention that but if u don't think that can happen then it's okay lol. okay lol sorry for the long a/n here's the story. **

* * *

"_Runa!_" Screeched the girl, face turning red. "Get in here now!" Her feet stomped on the floor like a small child.

"Yes, Zenna?" Runa peaked her head in he cousin's room, not daring to set another foot in for fear she'd blanch at the odor seeping from the feet of the girl.

Zenna's pale cheeks had flushed red and her hair stuck to her forehead in an angry sweat. "Where is my dress?"

Runa looked confused and shuffled in a bit more. "Dress? What dress?"

"The dress that was hanging in my closet, the dark blue one that was hanging _right there_ on that very hanger!" She yelled again, stomping on every other word as she pointed to the wooden hanger- empty of any garment.

Being the nice person she was, Runa held back the irritation building a headache at the base of her cranium. "Zenna, that was my dress; you stole it and Aunt Trillian asked me to retrieve it back for the dinner tonight."

Jumping from the bed in a spurt, she stalked to her cousin in a rage, whole face crimson. "You liar! You stole it from me because I looked better in it than you, you cow!"

"N-now wait a minute, Zenna, yo-," Runa started, but footsteps made their way into the long hall where Zenna's room resided.

"Runa! Why aren't you dressed, the dinner starts in an hour!" asked Trillian Gates, the mother of Zenna and wife of the mayor.

"Mum, she stole my dress!"

"What dress?" Trillian snapped to Runa, questioning.

"No, Aunt Trillian, she took _my_ dress, the blue one for tonight! She called me here because she's upset about it, that's the only reason why I'm not dressed, honest!" Runa pleaded with her aunt.

Trillian clicked her cheeks, eyeing from girl to girl. "Runa, go get dressed. I will send someone in to assist with your hair and accessories in a minute. Go now,"

Runa bowed her head, all the while holding her breath as she hurriedly walked to the end of the hall and up the stairs. Trillian turned to her daughter, nose up. Zenna fumed on her bed, somehow making the stench from her feet stronger. "I will address this once today and no more." Her mother's voice was icy and sharp. "You will be oblivious to Runa on this day and the next. Her husband to be, Sir Vector Maxwell will be at attendance for tonight's dinner and the dinner after the Reaping for the families. You will be cordial with her or so help me-,"

"-Or so help me, I'll ground you, I understand! Now go away, I must dress," she tore through her closet, which consisted of half the things Runa owned, all taken without permission.

"You have no reason to feel so ill about the girl. Besides, Ford will be there; keep your attention on him."

At the mention of that name Zenna's eyes lit up. _Yes, keep all my attention on him while I make sure we make her suffer together! And she'll have to deal with that baldy drunk guy while _I _have a real man!_ She thought to herself, paging through dress after dress on the racks.

* * *

"Jar, what do you think the past was like?" He asked, nimble fingers twiddling with a tiny screwdriver over an even tinier motherboard, tightening a screw.

A brother, similar build, similar hands, answered. "I dunno. What kind of past you talking about, Ben?"

Ben shrugged his shoulders. "The early days before they had any technology, I guess." He sniffed. "What did they do?"

The other brother laughed. "I dunno, Ben, maybe they-,"

The door to their small study burst open. "Boys!" Their father, Johan called out, still in uniform. His face was blotchy red and stern, a bright contrast from his opaque white shelled suit.

"Yes, sir?" Jardun answered for him and his brother. He had raised him more than their father had anyways.

Their father's eyes softened slightly, seeing his oldest son cover over his sibling. The bond was very prominent. "I have a small job for you two. Come with me," he held the door open more, extending for the boys to leave. Benjamin looked to Jardun for confirmation, his ashy blond hair swishing over his eyes as he made his way to the door.

"What do you need?" Ben asked.

"Well," Johan cleared his throat in an authoritative manner. "I friend of mine said one of the circuits on the town tower is malfunctioning, and his hands are too big to fix the wires. I figured you and your brother her would have the perfect hands to get in and do the work!"

A little smile itched at Ben's mouth. His father was rarely around, so for him to notice something that he was interested in was nice. "Okay."

At night, the town square was sleeping. The Justice Hall and mechanic stores on its edge had their lights out, only faint working glowing in the back. In the center of the Justice Building was a large clock, much like a scale version of the old one that resided in Britain. Standing on the side where a hidden door was open was a large man. "Johan, my man!" His heavy voice boomed.

Cracks came in Johan's face as he clapped the man on the shoulder, smiling at him. "Eddy! There's my bud!" Benjamin and Jardun walked in thick conversation behind their father. Johan held a hand to his boys. "Ben, Jar, this is a good friend of mine, Edison. Eddy, there are my sons Benjamin and Jardun."

"Hey there, guys," Eddy shook both their hands. "These are hardly the boys you said they were, Johan! These some grown men!" Then they both guffawed, hands on bellies, then quickly sobering. "I'm just kicking at ya. But anyways, you think you can fix my clock up there? The minute hand's wires are malfunctioning and I can't quite get to 'em." He held his hands out, one swollen, the other in wraps. "Had a bad issue few days ago and burned this one, and I hit the other."

"Oh, man. Are you alright?" Jardon asked.

Eddy threw his arms out in a _pshh!_ Manor. "I'll be fine, life in a mechanic! But from what I'm seeing your hands there will fit just fine, son." He gestured to Benjamin, leading them all up the stairs in the hidden door. A few flights later they were at the top where the workings of the clock were.

"What seems to be the problem?" Johan asked.

"Minute hand has been ticking backwards! Wild as I've ever seen it, an entire square of people wondering why it was getting earlier as the time went on!" He laughed a bit. "I think the wires got twisted, could you look for me?'

Jardun smirked, slightly pushing his brother to the chip. "Well, go on, Benny. Fix it."

Benjamin stepped closer to the wire and saw the immediate problem. "It was wired backwards! And the gears in the back were winded backwards too, so it made it go backwards. Do you want me to fix it?"

"Well, by all means! Do you need more wire?" Eddy bent down and started digging in his toolbox, handing two spools of wires and clips to Benjamin who's quick hands were already at work, gripping and twisting around the mechanism fix the chip. He was into his work, a slight crease in his eyebrows as he labeled and rewound the entire thing. Jardon could do nothing but stand back and smile at his little brother.

* * *

It was after dinner now, and the Gates family were lounging in their living room area. Runa was sitting next to her husband to be, his slyly sneaking his hands up her blue dress while she swatted him away, but only to have her eyes glued to Zenna and Ford canoodling on the couch.

How grotesque it was for a boy five years older than her to be touching on her like she was already a woman! And her parents right near witnessing it too. Zenna was only thirteen, and to see her smile and giggle at Ford's whispers in her ear brought Runa to tears and sickness.

"So!" Pipped Trillian. "The Reapings are to happen tomorrow morning, yes?" She looked around at everyone in the room, her hand on her husband's thigh.

"I have the most _beautiful_ dress picked out!" Squealed Zenna, cheesing at her family and their guest. She could see the green tint on Runa's cheeks as she pushed Vector's hands away. To make matters worse, Zenna whispered up in Ford's ear, saying "_I think she's pregnant!"_ then bit his ear.

Suddenly Runa stood. "I think I'm gonna be sick!" She ran out the room, a maid hot on her tail.

Trillian and Arthur both sighed deeply, knowing that the entire room had heard what she said. Vector's eyes widened, his mouth babbling. "You're wedding me a girl with child?" He bellowed.

Arthur stood, hands out like he was tired. Zenna was scared, not realizing the amount of trouble she would be in for such a scandalous comment. "No, Zenna was only joking! It's just how she and Runa get along, isn't that right dear!" His eyes dared her to speak against him.

Zenna swallowed, brushing her stringy bronde hair behind her ears. "Y-yes. I was only teasing, she isn't pregnant. It's before the Reapings is all, we're just a bit nervous."

Vector calmed a slight bit, but still on a slight edge. "Well, then. Quite an odd wait to show it." His beady eyes opened up from the slits they were.

An hour later after Runa had turned back to her normal colour, Vector had left, and Ford had kissed her goodbye, Zenna sat on her bedspread digging in her ears. She thought of how much she despised her _disgraceful _cousin and so did the rest of the district, and how happy she was that everyone -even her own boyfriend!- had turned to Zenna for kinship now instead.

* * *

"I'm very proud of you, son." Johan commented after settling back in their medium sized apartment near his working quarters. After Benjamin helped fix the clock and chatted for a bit about a job offering with Edison, they returned home.

"Yeah," Jardun ruffled his brother's hair like a child, even thought they were the same height. "Good job, kid."

Ben smiled. His brother always told him how proud he was of Ben, and that no matter what he would always be, but it still made him smile and his heart warm; more than his father's comment did.

"Thanks." he shifted on his bed, twiddling with his motherboard

"Well!" The sharp, strict, superior father had returned. "You should get some rest. I'll be gone early in the morning to help set up for the Reapings, so I'll see you two after. Good luck, son. Good night."

Jardun and Ben turned to him, both saying "'Night, dad." as he closed the door. He knew Jardun would work with Ben until they both passed out in the late morning.

"So what was that question you asked me before we left?" Jar tried to resume conversation with his brother.

His answer was Benjamin's yawn and clattering of his tools. "Later. That clock got me beat," and he fell asleep, thinking of how important he was that he fixed something everyone would know about.


	6. Chapter 6: District 4

**a/n**

**glittergirl20 - lmao i honestly did not realize that! yeah, Annie did win these games, but let's pretend she didn't for my sanity**

**Iron-Doughnut - let's make that three times! yeah, i'm back &amp; thank you! i'd like to think all the time away helped my writing but i doubt it, ur probably just being nice. **

**Anyways, i'm trying to make this one about the same length as the previous bc i felt like i was picking favs n that's not a good thing to do, lol. So yea, here's d4 my least fav bc i can't swim. Also this is the last pre-reapings! The next 4 districts will be during the reapings, the last 4 after. Just for variety. &amp; sry if this reads weird, i was havin a hard time writing parts :'-| (btw telejector is a tv &amp; projector lol im so creative)**

* * *

Atlantic sat on the side of the peer with his feet in the water. His head hung low with the sun, both wanting to fade away behind the sea.

His toes looked distorted in the water, slightly broken. The refraction split his legs in half, making the underwater part appear a bit larger than the original. The science of the water intrigued him, making him swivel his feet around for a few seconds more. As he did so a presence stood behind him, watching him play.

"Sit down with me, G," he said to the girl behind him. He turned and looked his girlfriend, Glisten, over. She had her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, the hue of it matching the rich roses present in the sky. Her skin was pearlescent with the light, highlighting her cheekbones and jaw in a simple glow, yet the shadows from it refined her features. She had on a swimsuit and cover shorts, a daily wear for just about every Four girl. "What's up?"

She sighed, slouching with her heave. "Nothing, really. Just a bit worried about tomorrow is all."

Atlantic laughed. "You're nervous for what? Nothing's gonna happen to you, baby."

She looked at him, eyes a bit watery. From her sun gazing or feelings, Atlantic couldn't tell. "You're gonna volunteer tomorrow, Atlantic. All because of that damn bet you made with your father."

"It's not even a bet, babe; I'm not doing this for him anymore, I'm doing it for Coast. He deserves to have a memory in the Games too. It was his dream."

"Just because it was his dream doesn't mean it has to be yours too, God, Atlantic! I get that he's your brother and all, but Coast died two years ago, two! Stop trying to make a memory out him! Live your own life for once." Her voice started off loud and angry, then petered into a light whisper. All she wanted was the best for him.

He ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair, pulling at his roots gently to release tension to keep from yelling at his girlfriend. "Glisten…"

"You can't blame me for being upset about it. I love you and I don't want you to go into the Games with a mindset like this," she set a small hand on his shoulder, reassuring him. "You don't have to prove yourself to anyone."

He shook her hand off, irritated. "I'm not proving anything for anyone anymore. This is mine too, my dream. To avenge my brother. I don't see why you can't get that," his alge green eyes drooped with the weight of other people's opinions.

She scoffed, turning to face Atlantic more. "You realize just about every Games there's that one kid who's there trying to 'avenge' somebody? Their brother, sister, cousin, girlfriend, mom, dad, uncle died in the Games, and now they're gonna go risk their lives just so they can prove a point to the rest of Panem. It's not worth it, baby."

Atlantic tilted his head back, exhaling. The setting sun outlined his position, an orangey-yellow haze trailing the flicks of his hair, the flails of his lashes, the bow of his lips, the curve of his neck, and so on, so forth. "You love me, right?"

"Of course." She whispered.

"Then I expect you to support every decision I make no matter what, not ridicule them, Glisten."

"I do love you, and because I do you should expect me to tell you when you're being illogical and stop you from choosing bad things. Because I love you." She reasoned. She stood, fixing her shorts. "I'm gonna head back in town. Are you coming?"

Still in the same position, he replied. "Nah. I need to be alone for a while. I'll see you soon, alright?"

Taking his cue dismissing her, Glisten nodded walking away.

* * *

_149, 150, 151, 152…_ the jump rope spun around multiple times, passing under the girl's feet and hitting the pavement on the beat. _153, 154, 155…_

"How many?" A man asked, smiling. He sat down a towel and a water bottle on a nearby table, pulling out a chair.

"One-seventy." She replied, breathless. _166, 167, 168…_

"How many did you do yesterday?"

"One-fifty." She slowed down as she reached her target number, finally stopping. He tossed her the towel and she caught it singlehandedly. "Where's mom and Ro?"

The man, who she looked eerily like, smiled. "They're at the house waiting on us. C'mon, grab your bag."

Kress picked up her training bag, throwing the sweaty towel in with the rest of her training things. She walked to the weapon wall and hooked her spear back up with the rest of them. She and her father proceeded to walk out of the training center with a few goodbyes from friendly staff members.

The walk home was a short one, maybe four or five minutes filled with light conversation between her and her father, Kors, about their days. Once in their apartment building, most of the conversation ceased.

Kors opened the door to see his wife sitting on the couch watching the Hunger Games Pre-Show. "Hi, honey," she stood and kissed her husband on the cheek. "Hi, Kre-," She turned to greet her daughter but Kress bypassed her, heading straight up the stairs to her room.

Kress threw down her bag and stripped out of her training clothes, heading for her shower in her attached bathroom. She turned the water on, testing to her taste. Once suitable she stepped in fully, letting the sweat, frustration, and anxiety flow down the drain with her water mist bath syrup. She scrubbed certain places more than once, making sure to take her time so she wouldn't have to meet her parents right then.

"Kress! Honey, hurry up and get out. Your father and I have to talk to you." Her mother, Meri, said through the door.

Kress sighed and stepped out grabbing her towel to dry off. First starting with her long legs, patting around her calves and working up. Her skin was the light of the dark, like the colour of resin found inside a cracked pecan. Further up her body she went, drying herself in the slowest manner possible to take more time.

Fully dried she dressed, pulling on her undergarments on one piece at a time, then her shorts and an old academy tee. She whipped her heavy, dark hair into a bun and slid her glasses on, resenting being done in such a short amount of time. She opened the bathroom door with hesitation, hissing sharply seeing her mother and father sitting on her bed already. "Honey," her mother gestured her arm out to an empty spot on Kress's bed. "Come sit."

Already knowing what this was about, Kress internally grumbled, agitated with her parents constant force. "I don't want to do it." She deadpanned, plopping down as far as she could from her parents.

"Kress, this is not an option anymore. You've trained, you've learned, your ready. You'll be eighteen next week; it's time for you to take some responsibility and listen to us for once." Her father tried his best to be commanding to his daughter without coming off as too stern.

Kress scoffed, dark eyes rolling. "So your idea of taking responsibility and listening is sending me off to the Games, which I clearly stated I don't want to go to? Is this what they tell you to do at parenting classes?"

Meri's nostrils flared and a slow thumping formed at the base of her skull. "Stop being disobedient! We talked about this before when you were younger and you loved the idea!"

"Yeah, when I was like twelve and I didn't know any better! I don't want to do it anymore, and I don't want to leave Ro!" She restrained herself from screaming knowing that her little brother was asleep two rooms over.

Meri threw her hands down in exasperation. "You say that like he's _your _child, Kress!"

"He might as well be! He's only three and he's convinced that neither of his parents love him because you never pay attention to him! It's all about me and these goddamn Games, me and training, me and volunteering! I do more for him when I'm around then _either_ of you do all the time!" What little restraint she was trying to hold for her brother was lost, as she was full fledged screaming. "How dare you say that to me! Even if he wasn't, he's my little brother, don't I have a right to love him?"

The throbbing at Meri's neck intensified as did a slow pulsating behind her right eye. "You will not speak to your mother in such a manner, Kress Crystal! Now you are volunteering for these damn Games tomorrow morning and that is final! And if I see that you don't, you are no longer apart of this family. You will be disowned, and I will no longer claim you as a child of mine." She stood and headed to Kress' door. "And you will not get to see your brother."

* * *

Walking along the shore of the beach, Atlantic thought of his brother and whether his situation was right.

Coast Wave was a tribute in the 68th Annual Hunger Games, placing fourth out of the total ranks. His casualty list was among the highest of his Games as well, having taken out six people and only two were under fourteen. His chariot outfit was one of the worse years, though; all nude and covered in sand. His training score was high to make up for it at a nine. His interview went well, he and Caesar traded light jokes and talked about his brother Triton who had won the previous year. He was quite attractive too -all of the Coast boys were-, with syrupy brown eyes and muddy blond hair, his build was a typical Four male, tall, sturdy, but lean; in all the Capital and the Sponsors loved him and his spirit, a shoe in for this year's Games.

But constantly this question snuck up on Atlantic at the oddest times- how _didn't_ he win? He was a Career, he had sponsors, he was strong, the arena wasn't too challenging. How? At times, Atlantic thought about it so hard it brought tears to his eyes.

At first, he didn't even get to see Coast's death because he was in school. It wasn't until the middle of the day when he started to get sympathetic looks from his peers and his father pulled him out of class, eyes red-rimmed and nose runny. Atlantic was confused beyond doubt, what was the issue? Triton was on the floor of their home rocking back and forth on the floor as the telejector showed updates of the Games. He looked on with furrowed brows as Coast ran with all his will towards a large tree, but the things behind him were much faster. The mutts looked straight out of Dante's Inferno, slick skin with pussing protrusions, large hook like claws, wings, multiple eyes, and wretched smiles pulled back on their cheeks. One flapped forward and knocked Coast off his feet, then another dove down from the sky and ripped at his body. From there Atlantic watched in absolute abhorrence as his brother's innards were stripped of their respective cavities. In shock, he had fainted.

Thinking about it now still gave him mock shocks of fatigue and fear, the bizarre screeches of the things mimicking laughter like hyenas as they dismantled what Coast used to be.

Not aware of where his feet were taking him, Atlantic sighed as he turned into the graveyard. It was odd, but only a Four thing. In the front was the usual graveyard plots with tombs, crypts, and the like for the people who weren't able to afford much or didn't like the other idea. But, if you took the back path, the cemetery had an underwater graveyard of sorts. A lake offered a beautiful view, but as you went down the set of stairs, it opened up much like an aquarium.

A glass wall was up and the headstones of the beloved sat facing the room as the fish, frogs, and other aquatics lived naturally by. Atlantic walked down a little farther into the tribute section, marked 'The Fallen of Four'. He passed tributes of the very first Games and stopped at the most recent. Just last year they lost both from Four, Ameena Ulch and Gove Coffer. As if frozen, their upper bodies were in motion, an exact bust of the once living person. Atlantic bowed his head to him and walked back a few paces, stopping at the 68th marker. Next to his brother was the girl from Four, Dale Rowen. She and Coast looked half life like, the dark stone the only non-human thing.

Atlantic read the name-plate he had read so many times. _Coast Wave, seventeen. Fourth place. 68__th_ _Games. A son of Four will always be remembered._

Fighting back the tears in his eyes, the youngest of the Wave brothers, the supposed next victor, he blew air through his nose, biting his cheek to hold back sobs. "I'm gonna try, Coast. Even if no one wants me to. Just for you."

* * *

Meri opened and slammed Kress' door and left Kors in the room to talk to their daughter. He raked his hands through his coarse hair, looking at his eldest with somber eyes. "Why did you say that to you mother, Kress? You know how she feels about that."

A wicked laugh echoed around the room. "Well. You two shouldn't be forcing me into something I don't want."

Kors got up shaking his head and waving his hands, saying _no, not now_, to the whole situation. "I can't talk to you like this. Fix your attitude and we'll try things again later tonight." And he left too.

Extremely agitated and in need of a release, Kress snatched up the bag she had only put down half an hour ago. She stuffed clothes in it, her money, keys, anything she thought she would need to have with her for a day away from home. She packed her Reaping clothes because regardless of her volunteering situation she still had to attend that. She pulled off her clothes and put on a swimming suit under them, sliding her feet into her flip flops. She heard crying coming from the living room as she got her things and exited her own room.

Sitting on the sofa, she saw her mother nursing a glass of water with medicine in it and a short glass of alcohol beside it. Ro sat on the floor crying, trying to get the attention of either one of his parents. Kors sat on the other side of the room, clicking away on the internet. Grabbing the remote and turning up the sound louder, Meri tried to drown out the sounds of her screeching child. "Roman Crystal, if you don't hush up that damn fuss! Cut it out, I can't hear!" Meri yelled.

Ro only cried harder, regretful of his decision. Kress shook her head, frustration bubbling through her pores. She strode in and picked her baby brother up from the floor, who curled into her neck and wrapped his tiny arms around her. Meri paid no attention but instead kept her eyes on the interview between Peka Dormir, the Head Gamemaker, and Mr. Flikerman. The dark woman's hair was in an intricate up-do and her outfit of choice was a long dress with fur cuffs and a long train, which Meri was mesmerised with.

Kress sat her brother on the table and wiped his eyes with her fingers. He brought his little stubby arms up and fisted at his face as he looked up at his big sister. "Stay right here, okay? I'll be right back." Kress said softly, kissing her brother's head. She walked quickly to his room and grabbed things he would need for an overnight stay in a place other than his home. She folded them neatly into her bag, then picked him up and placed him on her hip. She walked to the door, crossing her mother's view of the telejector. Meri looked away from Peka's loud laugh to her eldest walking out with her youngest.

"Where the hell are you going with my baby?" She asked, but didn't make a move to get up, letting her intense stare to the work for her.

Roman laid his head on his sister's chest, clutching to her for dear life. Kress looked her mother up and down, ashamed that she looked exactly like her, from the skin tone and the hair, to the build and the attitude. "I'll let you know this now." She looked at both her parents, Kors having looked up when the door opened. "I will volunteer tomorrow." Both adults sighed and shot up happy and clapping, walking to hug their daughter. "But," Kress held her hand up. "When I win, I am moving out to the Victors' Village, and I'm taking Roman with me." She looked at both of their faces, slack with mouths agape. She walked out the door then, slaming it just how her mother slammed the bedroom door she probably would never reside in again and hefted Roman on her hip out the complex.


	7. Chapter 7: District 5

**a/n**

**late, but there's a real reason behind it instead of laziness! My state is having mandatory testing so i've been having to study since we only have a month of school left, plus finals. Most my classes are having the state test and our final be separate and count for different things, so that's basically like studying for two separate things for the same subject. Also- I had a bunch of issues writing his chapter; Breyr is kinda hard for me to wrap my head around (you'll see), while Elaine was quite easy because the person who made it goes to my school and told me what scenes to do! So sorry to Albert Rbymenstien (lol) if it's not how you wanted Breyr! NOTICE: ****I need a D7 &amp; D8 male asap to get those chapters out! Only ONE chapter after this to get them!**

* * *

She brushed her long brown hair into a loose ponytail adorned by a big bow. Brushing the wisps that curled around her forehead away, she studied what she could see of herself: porcelain face with a small nose and mouth, leering dark eyes, appled cheeks with artistic splatters of freckles, an overall baby face. With the bow in the back and her Reaping outfit together she looked young, younger than you expected her to be after all. On the bed lay her skirt and pleated, frilled blouse, looking very docile and feminine in a juvenile since.

"Elaine, are you ready yet?" her father, a gruff man named Lennord, rapped on her bedroom door heavily.

"Just a second, let me get dressed!" she jumped from her vanity in a flash, ripping off her lounge clothing for her Reaping appropriate wear.

"Goddamnit, you said that ten minutes ago, what the hell are you doing?" his hand jigged the door knob and hit at the door with his foot as Elaine raced to pull her skirt over her legs before the door burst down.

With tears welling in the sides of her eyes, she fixed herself in the vanity before yanking open the door to see her red-faced father staring back. "I was getting dressed, honest."

He pushed her out the way with his belly, making her stumble back into the room. Elaine tried her best to stay facing forward to her father, not wanting him to know she had been perfecting her hair with the bow he gave her mother.

Lennord, being no common fool, ripped Elaine around, eyes growing as wide as a new moon at the soft grey bow holding up his daughter's hair. "You thief! You-you stole this!"

"I just wanted to wear it, I'm sorry! I didn't want to-," her father plowed on her quickly, making Elaine try to take several steps back in attempt to flee, but where else could she go? She was stuck in the room…

She tripped over the clothing she had left on the floor in a hurry to change, _another_ infraction that could grind her father's gears. On the ground she crumpled, expecting a blow and harsh insults, but instead was met with a hug and sobbing that wasn't her own.

Lennord cried as he hugged his daughter, who looked exactly like the woman he loved that left him for someone else all those years ago, and the fact that the Reaping was today didn't help his sanctity. "I'm so sorry, doll. I'm so sorry. You look stunning." he pulled himself up and stood his daughter upright. Elaine's eyes mimicked his look when he first saw the bow. He ran his large hand over her soft hair brown hair, almost imitating the move her mother had come accustomed to. "Keep it. Better use on you, than on the dresser."

Around days like these, big District days or holidays, her father liked to null his abuse and trade it for superficial loving and sweetness, which meant Elaine did nothing but deny it. After a day or two, a week tops, he would go back to slandering her and her brother, making her do all the work while still finding time to call her lazy…

An alarm from Elaine's watch toned. It noted that there was twenty minutes until the Reaping was to start. "I-i should go, dad. They start soon." still holding onto denial, but not wanted to leave with negativity, she stepped from her door frame. "I-i love you, dad."

A hazy tired smile was part of an answer. "I love you too." but she could sense the force it took to say it.

* * *

"You don't know how ready I am for this to be over." Sting growled as his nephew chucked large boxes of supplies up on his shoulders. The boy was short, but strong. "Get these snotty ass kids out the square unless you're putting 'em to work, eh."

The young man simply nodded, for he was too weighted down to do much else without fear of hurting himself by being distracted. A Peacekeeper standing on the platform above him smiled softly and reached down to take a box, however the boy only grimaced and hefted it to him.

"Good job there, pup." Sting clapped a wiry thin hand on his nephew's arm, earning a glare from him.

Another Peacekeeper walked by, eyeing Sting's limp brown hair and sharp looking face. "Sting, stop calling that boy a pup. It's barbaric." she rolled her eyes.

The said boy hefted another box up to the Keeper standing up on the platform with a heavy grunt. Sting just laughed, the sound reminding everyone of a garbage disposal with knives stuck in it. "C'mon, Breyr's practically my kid! Why can't I call him pup? He likes the term, don't cha', pup!"

Although that wasn't his father, they did share the same loose, dead grass looking brown hair that fell in lines rather than sheets on their heads. "Whatever." he too rolled his eyes, not caring at all for the term, but not enough to oppose it.

Sting nipped at Breyr's collar with his fingers, stopping him. He huffed and slumped forward. "What was that?"

"I mean 'yayyy, I love it'. Let me go." Breyr wrenched himself from the grasp of his impassive uncle.

He kept on working with a harsh look in his face, thoughts of mass fires, explosions, and massacres of the future. Faces morphed into grotesque groans, yelling for nothing, loud, gut-wrenching screeches and pleas of life. A world with no feelings, nothing but blank slates exercising the human purpose instead of needless things like love, freedom, pleasures, but rather a strict, grey scales of commands to control a population; think of a dictatorship. Thoughts of controlling things not quite exposed to common man yet, like dominance over a completely willing being from inside the head, the brain, instead of outward forces and fears- a motionless army maybe? What could they do? What _couldn't_ they do? Brains aren't anything but mass with electricity and chemical compounds, could something as mundane as a computer program (body program) change the course of thinking? What about-

"Breyr!" Sting send a sharp jab to his back.

Eyes lolling back into his head them back out again, he shivered involuntarily, back in reality. "What?"

"Time to go home and get ready. When we get there you got ten minutes to eat then five to change; I got some work to do after the Reapings so we need to be in and out." He spit out a thick yellow substance onto the ground, walking faster. "Catch up, pup."

But Breyr was already gone, back into his new and intriguing thought of single body dominion.

* * *

"Name?" the voice was neither feminine nor masculine, and the face was covered by a helmet, so little Elaine could not decipher the gender, not that it mattered.

"E-Elaine Walker. I'm twelve." she said softly.

The Peacekeeper extended their hand out with the prick machine in the other. "I need to see your hand, Elaine."

She nodded smally, putting her hand in the other's. She inhaled sharply and tears welled to the sides of her eyes as she got pricked. "Ouch!"

Quickly the Keeper swabbed the blood and patched it up for her. "I'm sorry, Elaine. I had to do that to make sure it was you! Go ahead and go to your section, and good luck. Your bow is very pretty." she could hear a bit of sympathy in the voice.

Her cheeks rosy and she blushed, taking her hand back. "Thank you! H-have a nice day." Elaine could feel the smile through the black face of the helmet.

Shuffling quickly, she looked up at the backs of all the older people going to their respective areas. Seeing a group of girls from her school mingling together, Elaine speed walked to stand near them. Young, vulnerable, and truly scared for the first time since her mother's departure, she stood forward and watched as the mayor and the escort for that year stepped onto stage.

Mayor Mead ran a hand down his thinning hair, shakily stepping up to the podium. Although he was old, he was still a sweetie, and the district kids loved it when he visited their classes, including Elaine. The only time they didn't like seeing him was when he had to read the Treaty of Treason, or see him at the dinners held for the fallen tributes families…

The escort, Pauleena Ryi, stood behind him silently. Once he was finish, Pauleena stepped forward with a 1000 watt smile as the two mentors quietly sat in their seats near the Mayor. "Hello, Five!" her voice was very languid and dreamy, like a thick whipping cream being lifted and poured off a spoon. "Hope you all are doing well today."

As expected, no one answered, smiled, nodded, waved, nothing. They stood mostly motionless, save for Elaine who picked at her skirt shakily. Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to look for her father, but couldn't spot him. Instead she saw another face trying to search through the ones close to her- it looked like her brother. "Willie!" she whispered as quietly as she could, although a few of the girls standing near her turned to glare. "Willie!" she tried again. This time he heard, and his ears perked up, whipping around to see her. He let go a heavy heave and smiled at her giving a thumbs up that seemed to say '_Good luck, I'll see you soon!'_ Elaine turned back forward with a smile, biting her cheek. She most definitely _knew_ they were getting ice cream after!

The whole few minutes that was happening, Pauleena had managed to drone on about useless things to stall the choosing a bit longer. The district was very sorry when it came to tributes; they almost always cried or tried to run away, making her a target when all the other escorts met up. "Let's go for boys first this year!" she stepped shortly to the bowl of male names. First she dug her hand in deep, spinning and swirling for almost twenty seconds before getting one caught in her nail. The silence in the district was palpable.

She cleared her throat. "B-Brey-," her head tilted as she tried out the name. "Breyr, I think? Breyr Thatch?" she looked up and around.

A bit of motion came from the 16-year old male section as a petite boy stepped out with a placid look on his face. He wasn't too unattractive, infact he was sort of cute in the face, but for his height, most sponsors would down him for that. He stepped up the stage and stood next to Pauleena silently, eyes darting quickly then setting on a fixed point.

The plainness on his face surprised Elaine, well the whole district really! How could he be so calm about going into the Games, _especially_ one made by Peka Dromier?

"Well, hello young man!" Pauleena set her hand on his shoulder lightly. The touch seeming to leech Breyr out his trance made his shake her hand off quickly and look up with sharp eyes.

"Don't touch me." he looked her up and down.

Eyes wide, Pauleena hurriedly walked to the female bowl and just quickly picked one off the top, ready to be over now. "Before I open this, are there any volunteers for Mr. Thatch here?" again, silence. "Well alright then." she ripped the light tape, then held it up to eye level. "Oh, such a pretty name! Do we have Ms. Elaine Walker with us?"

From somewhere near Elaine, a loud screech and the sound of falling came, with many people panicking.

Elaine blinked back tears and bit her bottom lip as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. The Peacekeepers had gone to help the person who fell and to look for the reaped girl. "I'm right here." she said, trying to weave through the thick crowd of girls. Hearing her, a single Peacekeeper coming to assist her. The Keeper stood behind her as she took big steps to get to the Reaping stage. She stepped up and stood next to Pauleena.

With an aerial view of the crowd now, she saw her empty spot and next to it commotion. She squinted to see it- her brother, While, on the ground with his head rolling and two people lifting him onto a gurney. "No!" he yelled. "She's only twelve, c'mon! Where's my dad!"

Pauleena looked to Elaine with soft eyes. "Hello, dear. How old are you?"

Switching to bite her cheek, she stood stoney. "I'm twelve years old."

"And who is that they're taking out, how old his he?"

"My big brother, Wilfred. He's twenty two." she nibbled at her cheek to bring pain to the forefront of her mind rather than crying.

"Oh." Pauleena said defeatedly. "Well, can you two shake hands?" Elaine turned to Breyr, who had been paying no attention to the ordeal. Her small hand stood out to his as his eyes cleared and he looked down at her hand and back at her. A wave of confusion changed his eyebrows as he shook her hand.

Elaine was lead to a small room with a tray of cookies and drinks with a single couch. She sat down at the couch with his hands in her lap. There she snatched the bow out her hair and started to cry.

* * *

"Just my fucking luck, huh." Breyr said to himself as he sat on the couch. He brought the tray of cookies to his side of the room to dip in the milk they provided, among other amenities, as he waited for anyone to visit him.

Well into his fifth cookie, and a new thought of nerve overriding using shock torture to the soles of the feet and temples, the door opened.

His uncle, Sting walked in, with two Peacekeepers behind him. "How long?" one asked.

"Give me at least five." Sting pulled out two bills and set it in each of their hands as she pushed them out. Sitting there with half a cookie in his mouth, Breyr looked at his uncle.

"How come you can do that?" he tore the peanut butter cookie in half.

"Victor's amenities, pup." Sting took a treat for himself. "Now let's chat. Just so you know…-"

"They picked me because of my parents." Breyr's eyes rolled with the mention of the two people who just about risked his life when he was baby, but actually did when he was sixteen.

When Breyr was just three years old, his parents decided to start a rebellion.

Believing that their good standing with the unwealthy people of District 5, seeing as they were right there with them, would give them the support they needed, but it didn't work. The lack of planning, organization, strength, was their downfall. The Capitol secretly heard of their plans and stormed one of their meetings, killing everyone; 20 people were murdered that night, including Breyr's parents and his little sister, who was 6 months at the time. Luckily enough, that night Breyr was on his annual trip to the opposite side of the District to see his great uncle Maximus, a withered old man who Breyr gave solidary company. Celia, his mother, was shot while trying to fight back the forces;Breyr was raised to think she was weak, worthless human being. Drake, his father, was shot while trying to hide their child; Breyr was also raised to believe that he was a foolish man who thought he could save others. Gretalla, his baby sister, was shown no and killed along with her parents, but Breyr was never told much about her besides that "the only smart thing his father tried to do" was try to sacrifice her life for his wife's life and his own.

Sting looked down at Breyr. "While in the Capitol, _always_ look impeccable. The Capitol people are simple to please, and the simplest way is to have a perfect exterior." he brushed imaginary dust off his pants. He would know, being an old Victor and all. "They may not like your height, but you got a nice face. Smile, don't go off into that shithole space you always do; be as vapid as you can, alright?"

Chomping on cookies was his answer.

"But, to win, you _must_ know how the human mind works, because everyone, and I mean everyone, around you is your enemy. You must be prepared to sacrifice anything for your own survival, even the lives of those who would normally hold a special place in your heart. I was prepared to sacrifice my father for you, so you must do the same in regards to me, your great uncle, and bring yourself back here. I raised my pup better than my piss of a brother ever would."

Again, no direct answer from Breyr, just eyeing him over the brim of the glass he was drinking from.

Continuing to be distant, Sting took one final look over at his nephew he'd gotten from his father, Maximus, and raised into what he saw as a strong, sturdy, well rounded individual. However society, the people around him, and even Breyr himself knew that was far from the case. The calculating, morose, vain, cynical, deprived, self-inflicted evil being. His thoughts only circulated with damnation, purgatory, and utter taboo musings that only a starved childhood could produce.

"Well, old boy." Sting open the door, a few minutes before the time he paid for. "I'll leave you be. See you soon, or damn you're fighting soul to hell." and he left.


End file.
